While the Madagascan music scene swings to a number of different styles, salegy is one of the island's most popular rhythms to date. Jump into a bus or taxi anywhere in Madagascar and you'll hear the latest Jaojoby cassette blaring away up front – and don't be surprised if fellow passengers know all the words by heart! The sound of Jaojoby's pulsating vocals is enough to fill dancefloors all the way from the island's capital to the outback and Jaojoby reigns as crowned king of salegy all the way from Tamatave to Antananarivo. Now, 25 years after the release of his first single, the veteran salegy star is back in the music news with Aza Arianao.

Jaojoby, the credits on your new album contain a special message. You say "A big thankyou to all my musicians who surpassed themselves on this album, despite the fact it was recorded in a state of near-exhaustion." Why were the recording sessions so hard?
Well, what happened was we got straight off the plane from Madagascar and performed at a major "bal" in Paris on June 24th 2000. Then on the 25th we took the train to Amiens to start recording the following day. Needless to say, by the time we reached Amiens we were all completely exhausted. But we didn't have a choice. Recording had to begin on the 26th, because after that it was the start of the French summer holidays – and the French take their holiday dates very seriously! Either we went into the studio to record on the 26th or the recording sessions would have been pushed back indefinitely. We had five days to record the album and that was that!
It was the singers who really bore the brunt of the pressure, but I have to say the musicians absolutely surpassed themselves given the stressful conditions. And that's why I wanted to include a special thanks in the credits, because it was thanks to them we managed to come out with something decent in the end.

Was the recording of Aza Arianao actually scheduled in advance or were things decided at the last minute?
No, the recording of the album was very much planned in advance, the only problem was we didn't have a fixed date for the studio. I really thought we'd be able to record in a relaxed atmosphere, you know, take our time over things. But, the way things turned out, I couldn't have been more wrong! Actually, I think we could have produced something a lot better if we'd been in better shape physically.

Given that you recorded the album in five days, you can't have had time to do several takes of each song …
Well, it was a bit like recording a live album really. But then we always work like that, once we've set everything up and done a proper soundcheck. It was only the vocals which got reworked afterwards, where we did actually have the time to do re-takes. But if you sit down and listen to the album calmly in the tranquillity of your own home, you'll realise the whole thing could have been much better if we'd had more time.
I mean, in several cases we really had to get things right on the first take, laying down bass, drums, keyboards and guitars all at the same time. But it was tough working under a strain like that – everyone was tired and on edge. There were a couple of times when the tension exploded into rows. I remember once I actually stormed out of the studio, slamming the door and screaming "shit!" at everyone! But I don't often lose it like that when we're working on a serious project. I think I'd just reached a point of utter fatigue and my nerves were frayed.

But you're used to playing all-night concerts, aren't you, that's the sort of show you normally do in Madagascar?
Yes, but doing an all-night show and working on an album are two very different things. An album has to be produced slowly and painstakingly – it's not something you should rip off in a few days. We spent four days doing the takes for twelve songs and then the fifth day we worked on the final mix. And, believe me, it was really tough working like that! You can maybe get away with that kind of thing up on stage, because a live show is a transient thing, but an album is something that exists for ever. It's not the same thing at all.
Honestly, I feel we'd have sung a lot better if we'd had more time. There are a couple of points on the album where the vocals sound really tired and hoarse.

Your contribution to the "Musiques de Madagascar" festival at La Villette is something called a "dust dance" ("bal poussière"). What is this exactly?
Well, back home in Madagascar, you get these local folk groups who play at dances out in the bush. The dances take place outside on a stretch of stamped-down earth or inside in a community hall and you get all the local farmers and agricultural workers coming along to let their hair down. Everyone forms a big circle around the dancefloor and they go round and round dancing salegy - the movements are a bit like a zebu (humped ox) stamping its legs in a paddy field. Anyway, when the dances are held outside you get all this dust swirling around – and that's why the dances are known as "bals poussière". It's completely different from the concept of aristocratic balls which were held in nice bourgeois salons where everyone got dressed up in their finery. A "bal poussière" is basically a bunch of peasants dancing around bare-foot in the dirt ...
I don't want to sound like I'm criticising my compatriots or anything, but that's what dances out in the bush are like. The dust gets so bad sometimes it can totally alter singer's voices. There've been times when we've been performing out in the bush and we've had to hold handkerchiefs over our faces to protect ourselves. There's so much dust swirling around that by the time the dance is over everyone's completely white – they've got all this white dust in their hair and their eyelashes. But I love dances like that. There's always such a great atmosphere. Farmers and agricultural labourers aren't big-headed, you know, they're kind, simple folk who've got no inhibitions when it comes to letting themselves go and having a good time! That's what "bals poussière" are all about, really – letting your hair down after a bout of strenuous work in the fields. It can be really beautiful too, as the only sort of light you get comes from the moon and the stars and sometimes it rains. Everyone dances round and round, stamping their feet and by the end of the "bal", the earth's completely smoothed and flattened.

Sega, the local traditional music played on other Indian Ocean islands like Mauritius and Réunion, has its roots in slave songs. But Madagascar - an island that was colonised by the French following the abolition of slavery – has had a very different history. Do you think that's why Madagascar has developed its own form of music, salegy?
I believe what happened was Madagascar adopted sega. And a lot of musicians and musicologists agree with me too, saying that sega is actually descended from salegy - although our neighbours from Mauritius and Réunion don't see things that way at all!
But if you listen closely, sega and salegy are based on the same beat – they both play the rhythm in 6/8 time. The thing is, a lot of Réunionnais and Mauritians actually trace their roots back to Madagascar. I believe what happened was people who were deported from Réunion or hired by the colonists brought their folk music with them. And perhaps it's no coincidence that sega musicians of Madgascan origin often play the best! But you have to remember that there are actually a lot of other influences going on in the music, too, influences from India, continental Africa and Europe. So that's why I like to say that sega is actually a form of 'Creolised' salegy.

A lot of different singers and musicians play salegy on the Madagascan music scene. What makes you stand out from the rest?
The voice is the best musical instrument in the world – and that's what makes Jaojoby, you know, it's all in the vocals!

There's a bit of rivalry on the Madagascan music scene too, isn't there? I mean, people say Jaojoby's the "king of salegy" and then in the same breath they hail Tianjama as the "absolute master". How do your two groups get along?
Well, it depends on the individuals involved really. Personally, I'd say I get on with everyone. I'd be ashamed to say I was jealous of another singer, in fact. God doesn't love those who are jealous of their brothers and I believe in God, it's He who dispenses luck in this world. If I want God's blessing and God's help in this life, then I have to behave in a decent way.
Master Tianjama and myself get along just fine. But I have to admit, there are plenty of people who are jealous of me. Putting modesty aside for a moment, I think it's fair to say Jaojoby's a legend in Madagascar. When you talk about salegy or Madagascan singers, my name automatically comes up.

But, personal jealousy aside, do you think a bit of rivalry can actually be a healthy thing?
Well, it's true to say that when my 'colleagues' put out a good album, that stimulates me to try and put out something just as good or go one better. Because that’s what it's all about really, being the best! But I have to admit, I'm not the best salegy-man. There are some guys out there who are actually better than me, but maybe they haven't had my luck. I'd say I'm not the best salegy-man out there – I'm one of the best.

Madagascar has become an increasingly popular tourist destination in recent years. Has this had any effect on your career?
Yes, of course. When tourists visit Madagascar they buy our records and cassettes. So the number of foreigners who know my music is on the up! I'd say that of all the musicians on the current Madagascan music scene, I'm the best known abroad.

The song Sitrany tsy Manano, which featured on your last album, contained a specific warning against "foreigners", though, didn't it?
No, let me explain, when I used the word "étranger" in that song, it actually meant "stranger" not "foreigner". I wasn't specifically talking about Westerners or Europeans, I was talking about "strangers" in the sense of newcomers, people you've never met before, whether they're from Madagascar or abroad. Sitrany tsy Manano is a song which aimed to raise awareness about AIDS. What I was trying to do in that song was put across a warning to women in Madagascar who, for money or other reasons, sleep with "strangers". AIDS is a highly contagious disease so you have to be wary of "strangers", because you never know who might be carrying the HIV virus. You have to protect yourself and be careful, you know. "Sitrany tsy manano" – when in doubt, don't!

Since 1999 you've played an important role as "goodwill ambassador" for the United Nations Population Fund ...
They contacted me and asked me to act as their ambassador – and I accepted without a moment's hesitation, because I'm conscious of the problems in my country. It's my duty as an opinion leader to raise the awareness of my countrymen. It's a role I take very seriously and I really put my heart into the work.

When you describe yourself as an opinion leader, it sounds like there's a political edge to what you do …
Yes, of course, there's a political edge to what I do. When you're a famous figure and people listen to what you say, you can get messages across a lot better than politicians. If I say "vote for such and such a politician", I believe that a certain number of my fans will go out and act on what I say. So that's what I mean when I say I'm an opinion leader.

Have you already put some sort of message across in your songs telling people how to vote in the presidential elections in Madagascar in December?
No, not yet. But once the political campaigning starts, I will. It's not far off now!